Take My Hand
by Ryuuza
Summary: Harry has always been on her side...but can she ever reach for him? [H/Hr] one-shot fic


Take My Hand  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does. Lucky, lucky, lucky. *grumble*  
  
A/N: REVIEW!  
  
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She wanted to cry, but the tears refused to fall from her eyes. Her unbreakable self-control had served her well in a lifetime of battling emotions and withholding pain. It took over now, automatically, holding in the tears as it had done so many times in the past with few failures. To anyone who was looking, she had every appearance of the norm. No one would notice how upset she was.  
  
Except him.  
  
She tried to dart through the common room, her head down and her hair concealing her face in a tangle of cinnamon brown curls as she passed various students. There were those curled up in front of the fire, those flipping intently through their textbooks, those gossiping and pretending to studying, and those chasing each other around with no pretense of studying as they laughed and waved their wands threateningly. She managed to pass unnoticed through them all, her thick Arithmancy book clutched to her chest, per usual. No one noticed anything different about her.  
  
Except him.  
  
As she dashed for her ultimate goal, the stairwell leading up to her dormitories, she was stopped by a hand on her arm. He stood beside her, his eyes concerned as they peered down at her. She looked bravely at him, doing her best to mask any traces of hurt and anger lingering in her expression. No one could have-or would have-noticed the telltale sheen in her chocolate eyes or the slight set to her jaw. No one would have caught the tension in her shoulders, the white-knuckled grip on her textbook. The subtle signs went unobserved by everyone.  
  
Except him.  
  
She just wanted to run to her bedchamber and bury herself in her blankets, seeking solace from the rest of the world. She wanted to be left alone. She wanted someone to care. She wanted to cry. She wanted to throw a tantrum. She wanted to him. She didn't want to want him. She wanted to be healed from the pain. She wanted to know the truth.or maybe it was better to stay confused. Maybe it was safer this way. This way, no one would be able to see her vulnerability, her insecurities, her deep ache to be loved and cherished and taken care of. No one would be able to hurt her, to touch her.  
  
Except him.  
  
Without a word, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. Her head feel limply against his chest and she felt his emanating warmth, the gentle heave of his chest as he breathed, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He understood. He understood all the pain, the confusion, the anger-he may not have agreed, but he understood. And he knew that she felt lost and alone and the comfort and security he offered for a few brief moments meant far more to her than any trifling inquiries about her condition-as if it weren't obvious. He understood her when no one else did. The world thought her intense, volatile relationship with Draco Malfoy was too much of a risk that wasn't worth the consequences. They all thought she was only going to get herself hurt, thought her a fool for even attempting to reach out to the angry, withdrawn Slytherin who masked his private struggles by verbal attacks on others. Everyone thought she was making the ultimate mistake.  
  
Except him.  
  
He trusted her. Maybe not Malfoy, but her, he trusted. He was willing to sacrifice his peace of mind for her happiness, willing to spend time worrying about her if she was granted even a moment of joy from being with Draco. Those who knew him thought he was quite the self-sacrificing, if possibly insane, guy. Those who didn't just thought he was plain stupid. Everyone thought he was in love with her.  
  
Except him.  
  
He didn't think-he knew. He knew he would never be able to get her out of his head, his heart, his soul. She had branded herself on him, become a part of him so much that to give her up would be like losing a part of himself. So he didn't. Instead, he made sacrifices. He wanted her happy, to hear the laughter on her lips and see the joy glowing in her eyes even if the telltale flush and tousled hair were clear indicators of whose arms she had just left. He would endure anything as long as he could always be there for her when she needed him.like now.  
  
Everyone thought they would make a perfect couple. Better than her and Draco, anyway. But he saw the truth, one that hurt and stung and left raw scars upon his heart but was true nonetheless. He saw that no matter what incomparable comfort he offered her, no matter how priceless the security, her heart already belonged to someone else. She had given it willingly and paid the price of pain stolidly. Everything he was willing to go through for her, she was willing to go through for Draco.because she loved him.  
  
And he stood beside her, holding her hand, drying whatever tears escaped her self-control, sharing her joy, applauding her courage. After all, what else could he do?  
  
Everyone thought Harry Potter and Hermione Granger belonged together. No one saw her look up at him, brown eyes meeting green, tears that had finally welled up beginning to fall for what might have been but never could be. No one saw her wordless apology for handing her heart on a silver platter to someone who may or may not deserve it. No one saw the way her hand sought his in thanks and in comfort.  
  
Except him.  
  
And he smiled stoically, squeezed her hand, and in a soft but firm voice, reassured, "He loves you Hermione."  
  
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A/N: Done. Go review. 


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